yogis and regular folk

It is hot here during the day, hot and humid. But the morning dawns clear and cool with the light brilliant on the temple across the garden, the colors glowing. Almost every other day, it rains in the afternoon. Big drops, cloudburst of rain driving everyone in. And then, in the evening, it clears, the air is fresh as it can only be after a rain, and the sky is a deep, deep blue.

In the afternoons, Tamdrin and I talk. He tells me of Buddhism. Yesterday we watched a documentary on his computer about the yogis from Tibet allowing themselves to be videoed, and in some cases seen, for the first time. These are people who have spent their lives in a cave or living in a monastery studying secret documents on how to become enlightened. The Dalhi Lama asked them to participate in this, afraid that the old ways would be lost.

The first noble truth of Buddhism is that life is suffering. And in Tibet, that is certainly true. It is easy to see the draw to a path that might mitigate this suffering, if not in this life, in the next. I marvel at the devotion of these monks, the willingness to renounce all pleasure and I find myself feeling foolish. I do not have this one pointed devotion, this utter focus on finding emptiness, freedom from suffering. I want to be comfortable, happy, loved, busy in activities that feel generative to me and others. And yet maybe this is also a path. Buddhism talks of the three parts of Buddhism, Buddha, dharma (the teachings) and sangha (the community). For most of this, the slow evolution does not happen in a cave but with others, with teachers and with a sense of the holy. Maybe there is hope for me.

Tamdrin tells me that Buddhists believe that Buddha is in everyone. That Gandhi was Buddha. Mother Theresa was Buddha, Martin Luther King was Buddha. It gives me pause. This idea of fragments of the divine, yet again, a familiar concept. It comforts.

They say Buddha had 1000 incarnate lives before he became the Buddha. They call it changing faces. This need to win, succeed, solve the problem now is not so prevalent here. Rather there is a sense of slowly chipping away at the mountain, a gentle moving towards that divine buried inside. If not in this life, the next. If I can make one small act that carries me in the direction of enlightenment, then that is enough. Such patience. It's so unAmerican.

I am trying it on, that kindness towards myself. If I am patient with myself, less harsh, maybe I can look up a bit more, look around, see others walking towards me, next to me. See the way the light catches the brilliant colors. It is short, this time here, maybe taking pleasure in this moment is also a slow movement toward the divine.